“Mind telling me what this is about?” Crest said. His gaze flickered to Curran.

“These people are shapechangers,” I said. “Several of their pack mates are dead. I’m involved in the investigation and the murderer has developed an unhealthy fascination with me. He left a rotting head in my yard with a love note.”

Crest’s face lost its expression. “I see,” he said. “You think that I’m the guy.”

Doolittle stepped forward. “If you’d be so good as to volunteer a blood sample, the matter can be cleared up within minutes.”

Crest was looking at the kid with the shotgun. Wrong. Excluding himself, the kid was the least dangerous of those present. “And if I don’t volunteer?”

“You should,” Curran said flatly.

Crest looked at me. “Kate? You believe that I’m the killer?”

“No. But I have to know for sure.”

A mix of emotions twisted his face. He thought that I had betrayed him. So did I.

“You said you wanted to be part of what I do,” I said softly. “Now you are. Please give us the blood, Dr. Crest.” I don’t want to see you hurt.

Crest clenched his teeth. Around me the shapechangers tensed. His gaze fastened on my face, Crest rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and held out his arm. “Might just as well get it over with.”

Doolittle tied his biceps with a strip of rubber. A long needle pierced the skin and the dark blood squirted into the clear tube.

“So tell me,” Crest said. “What exactly am I supposed to be? I assume since Kate’s involved, I’m not an ordinary human. What am I guilty of?”

“She thinks you feed on the dead,” Jim said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You hunt them. In the night. Human, vampire, Pack, doesn’t matter. You hunt them, you kill them, and then you eat the corpses.”

“Lovely.” Crest’s gaze didn’t waver. Doolittle carried the sample to the scanner.

“Oh, it gets better, Doc.” Jim was on a roll. Sonovabitch. “You also kidnap young women. You fuck them, then eat them. You mate with animals and make kids. Hordes of little misshapen Crests that roam the city in search of human meat.”

“How nice.”

The scanner chattered, printing out the signature. Jim shut up and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on his prey. The shapechangers hovered on the verge of shedding their humanity, ready to rip into the warm meat. They breathed deep, their muscles taut with concealed motion, their eyes hungry and unblinking. And their prey, the human in the middle of the room, stood surrounded and alone, looking at me like a lost child. I slid Slayer from its sheath and held it ready.

“Human,” Doolittle said. “He’s clean.”

“You sure?” Curran said.

“Not a scintilla of doubt.”